Do You Trust Me?
by fishyyy
Summary: I knew Cato was scared, I didn't know he was desperate. "Do you trust me?," he asks as his hand holds mine tighter. One-shot.


I let the cold morning breeze sweep my black bangs across my face. I watch the purple sky as I tuck the hair back behind my ear.

It's 4 o'clock in the morning. No one's up yet, at least I think so until I hear footsteps. I shoot up and turn around to see who it is, relaxing when I see it's only Cato, I sit back down on the cold cemented floor of the rooftop of the trainees' building, holding my knees to my chin.

"Hey," he greets.

"Hey," I say back, my words barely audible, as the chill creeps up my spine again. I hold my legs just a little tighter.

Cato sits beside me with his legs crossed. "What are you doing up?," he tilts his head to look at me. His voice is so unnaturally quiet and gentle that it makes the air just a little bit warmer, at least for me.

I don't know. Maybe it's just me and my paranoia. Everything seemed a little different ever since I woke up an hour ago. The doors looked a bit smaller, the sky seemed a bit darker... It's probably just me. Maybe I was just so used to hearing Cato's loud, booming voice all the time that his soft words seemed so alien to me.

I'm over thinking.

I just shrug, thinking that saying anything would just make me throw up. My unsaid words were choking me.

"Nervous?," he asks. There was something about the way he said the words that made me think that he was nervous too.

Nah, Cato's not nervous. No way. He's been preparing for this day his whole life. He's _Cato_ for crying out loud. He can't be nervous.

Still, the tone he used with his words failed to confirm my own thoughts.

I don't answer. "You?"

He grins and I hear a small chuckle escape his lips. It was the typical arrogant grin Cato always had on his face whenever someone told him he couldn't so something that we both knew he could.

I watch him from the corner of my eye as I stare at the empty sky , his grin falters and I wonder why.

"Maybe," he says in almost a whisper, no shame at all in his voice just honesty, as he starts punching the floor softly.

It amuses me that he's actually nervous and it piques my curiosity as to how that emotion managed to reach him. I cross my legs and smile in amusement as I look at him. "You?," I ask almost jokingly. There was just no way.

He grins weakly, not an arrogant grin, just a grin. It's something I've never seen before on Cato's face.

"Why?," I ask, feeling my expression soften.

And this time it's him who shrugs and it's me who grins.

"You've been preparing for this since we met," I say, remembering the first time I met Cato when he was 8 and I was 7. It was a small duel to test out the trainees' natural abilities, or to see if they actually had one. I got a hold of my knives but Cato only needed his bare hands, he was big for his age. I remember almost losing when Cato threw me to the ground, my knife made a deep gash on his right bicep as he prepared to break my arm. I wound up stranded in the clinic with him for a day since the cut was pretty deep. I thought he would hate me but we became best of friends, he said I was the first and only girl he met that wasn't a "giggling idiot".

I chuckle a bit at the memory. Good times

"Why get nervous now?," I ask.

He shrugs again and I watch closely as his eyes and his mind wander far away, past the skies of District 2.

I decide to keep quiet and wait for the blonde boy to come back.

He does and he turns to me and says, "I don't want this."

I almost laugh. We grew up in District 2, a well-known Career district. Joining the Games was a pleasure and winning was an honor. That's what we were taught but there's always that one part that doesn't want to join the Games, that one part that doesn't want to volunteer. I know for sure that in every Career's mind there's a part that just wants to_ live_.

"Yeah, me too," I say and he looks at me bewildered, a small curious smile on his face.

I think he's about to say some rude, witty remark but his features soften, for what could possibly be the first time in both of our lives.

"Well, aren't you the lean, mean killing machine?," I half-joke. "I'd expect anyone to back out except you."

He chuckles softly. "That's what everyone thinks, huh." I can't help hearing the scared little boy hiding behind his words.

Had he been scared all along?

"We don't have a choice," I say as I look away.

"We do," Cato says after a small pause and my eyes turn to him.

I shake my head. _We don't._

"I'd do anything," I say truthfully. Anything to get out of volunteering at the Reaping. If I had a choice.

"Anything?," his eyebrow perks up in curiosity and I start to wonder what he's thinking.

He stands up and stands on the edge of the rooftop, eight floors off the ground. I follow. "What are you doing?," I ask with a tired smile as I step on the platform beside him.

He doesn't answer, instead he holds out his hand and I slowly take it. I feel a warmth spread across my entire body at his touch . It's weird. A good weird.

I've never allowed myself to be this vulnerable but there's no one around. No point in tiring myself by pretending.

I look at Cato curiously, wondering what he's thinking. When I see him look down I figure it out.

"What?," I ask, almost horrified. I knew he was scared but I didn't think he was desperate.

I don't let go of his hand though, it's too comforting and peaceful, instead I hold on a little tighter.

He looks at me, his eyes full of vulnerability and desperation. It almost makes my heartbreak. We've never been like this, but right now nothing else matters.

I have never seen Cato like this either. I've never seen him this weak.

"Do you trust me?," he asks, seriousness and calmness overflowing in his words as I feel his hand hold mine tighter as well.

It takes me I don't know how long to get my mind working again. I know what Cato's asking me. I know the consequences. I know what's 'gonna happen but I don't know what happens, my mind slips away. It's been too much. I realize all I've ever needed was someone who was brave enough to say that they felt the same. And it was Cato.

"Yes," I say.

The last thing I remember is air going against my face as I held Cato's hand before a white flash envelopes me.

_I trust you._

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><p><strong>AN**

**STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY. I OWN NO ONE AND NOTHING EXCEPT FOR THE STORY.**

Okay guise it's 2:21 a.m. when I finished this. :)

No proof-read. Maybe later. Sorry.

Hope you enjoyed. Reviews! ^^


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